Why hello there, dearest Filthy Dreams munchers, nibblers, grazers, finicky pickers, and gobblers! It’s that time of year again–tell the world…let them know…it’s HALLOWREEN! No wait…sorry….THANKSGIVING!! Yes, that’s right. I just got confused because I’ve been guzzling our World Famous Pumpkin Punch ever since the leaves began to turn. And as I’m sure you know, … Continue reading
“I used to think my life was a tragedy. Now I realize it’s a comedy,” says soon-to-be Joker/Gotham’s resident gaunt downer Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) in Todd Phillips’s much-discussed, much-think pieced, much-hyped, much-backlashed film Joker. This line became a standout early on in the promotion of the film, and truth be told, for a good … Continue reading
“As I walk these narrow streets where a million passin’ feet have trod before me, with my guitar in my hand, suddenly I realize nobody knows me,” dryly sings Nick Cave in the beginning of “The Singer,” his take on Johnny Cash’s “The Folk Singer” on Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ 1986 cover album … Continue reading
I don’t know about you, dearest Filthy Dreams readers, but I’ve been feeling a bit woo-woo recently. If I had to pinpoint the source, I’d date it to the last Democratic presidential debate in June, when a shining star soared across my screen like a beacon of New Age psychobabble and half-baked, half-lit ramblings. Yes, … Continue reading
I love museum gift shops. I know, I know–this isn’t too much of a surprise after I’ve continually admitted my undying love of the worst of late capitalism, including yes, corporate Pride. But unlike that rainbow colored free-for-all, which comes around only one month a year to tickle my frantic shopping spree fancy, museum gift … Continue reading
Nothing says instant cinematic classic like a climactic moment involving shitting on a bus. Or is that an instant trash classic? Either way, Netflix’s The Perfection blasted its way into my heart like an explosive bowel movement, with the alternately shrieking and whimpering dialogue: “If I move, I’ll shit! I’m going to shit on the … Continue reading
If Charles Ludlam thought Susan Sontag did a number on camp, I can’t imagine what he would have thought witnessing the camp tragedy that occurred on the pink carpet (pink being, apparently, the color of camp) at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Monday. Whew! Mary! It was a camp catastrophe, a camp calamity, a … Continue reading
